


If Lost Please Return To...

by Wispy_Raindrop



Series: Survive, Recover, Live [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adult Fear, Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Missing Persons, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Rape/Non-con, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 13:03:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8402749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wispy_Raindrop/pseuds/Wispy_Raindrop
Summary: You're name is Roxy Lalonde and you want your kids back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this story has actually been finished for a few months now but I was a bit nervous about posting it due to some of the tags up there. When thinking of where the Alpha kids were going to fit into this Roxy decided she still wanted to be Dave's and Rose's mom and after that I just couldn't think of anyone but Dirk as their dad which obviously has a few issues. So I figured, if trolls have a controlled breeding system, in this combined society the humans do to.  
> The event itself is only briefly referenced in a kind of vague way but I figured I should tag for it anyway.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> This story takes place after all of the ones posted thus far.

_“The only love I really believe in is a mother’s love for her children.” – Karl Lagerfield_

 

Your name is Roxy Lalonde and you want your kids back.

You have no idea where they are or what's been done to them but you will find them and rain hell on the bastards that took them. You'll burn the assholes and whatever jacked up base they've got to the ground until even the ashes are gone, scattered into the endless void like so many of your dreams.

You try not to think about the time lost, the things you didn't get to do with your kids, the growing up you missed. You can't imagine what they're like now, how they behave, if they're good or bad or even if they are together. Instead you try to focus on what you'll do when you see them again, on how much they've grown and if they'll even remember you at all. They were only seven – _seven –_ when they were taken and _who would kidnap children?_

You take a deep breath and sit at the low table in your make-shift tent. You haven't had a chance to fully clean your rifle in a while and it doesn't seem like you'll be going anywhere any time soon. There are no leads to currently follow and your friends keep going on about how wandering aimlessly isn't helpful in the least. After all, if you just wander around with no destination you might just end up too far away from your goal.

And you get that, you do, but staying in one place makes you antsy and fills you with too many what-ifs that almost make you fall off the wagon. And you can't do that anymore. If you hadn't been drunk off your ass nine years ago you wouldn't-

You would know where Dave and Rose are if most of your time hadn't been spent in the bottom of a bottle.

But you're doing better now, you haven't even _touched_ a bottle in six years and you don't plan on starting again any time soon. Your friends are so proud of you and until recently you've celebrated every month you've been sober with them. Now you'll celebrate every year on Dave and Rose's birthdays until you can finally bring them home. Sometimes you wonder if that's the only thing keeping you going right now.

You set your gun before you and carefully examine it. There are a few new scrapes and scratches but nothing serious needs to be replaced. With measured movements, you begin to take it apart, piece by piece, and lay each and every bit on the table in a neat, orderly fashion. Well, orderly to you, anyway. Dirk keeps lamenting about the chaotic set up of your tools and work space but you've learned the perfect way to tune him out. Think about cats. They get you every time. (Though sometimes you point out that Dirk can be just as bad but he always deflects like the insufferable prick he is.)

You wonder if Dave and Rose would like a cat. Rose certainly loved them and you were devastated when Jaspers died. Dirk was at the little funeral you set up, the one where you mourned not only a lost cat but also your missing kids.

Once your gun is dissembled you pull out your cleaning kit. There are still some dirty brushes in there but you don't have a way to dispose of them. Most of them could still be used for something else, you suppose but you keep forgetting to take them out. You suppose it doesn't matter too much unless your kit gets so full that it can't be closed anymore. You'll worry about it later.

You take your make-shift tools and gently remove all the gunk that's built up in your precious weapon. Poor Mutie, you haven't really been looking after her all that well lately. There's quite a lot of dirt and you really should have noticed her sorry state earlier but, well. You've been distracted lately. You and your friends have been wandering aimlessly across the planet for even the slightest sign of your kids but it's been _six years_ since you all set out to look and you haven't even gotten a _whisper_ of them. Jakey, bless him, is _so sure_ that you'll find them soon but if you're being honest you're kind of losing hope.

You only just have enough compressed air and solvent left to complete the cleaning and now you begin the careful process of putting it all back together, looking over each piece to make sure it is still in working order. Satisfied, you put the clean and reassembled rifle down and stand, stretching out the kinks in your back.

There's movement outside and you freeze, fingers twitching towards Mutie. Dirk slips in through the tent flap and you relax, letting out the breath you didn't know you were holding. He assesses you quietly for a moment before approaching you and pulling you into a tight hug. You sag into it, your body going completely limp in his arms as you return it. He's gotten better at it over the years and while it's nice you can't help but feel guilty. He's been your emotional crutch through this whole thing even through his own panic and worry that he thinks you don't notice.

After all, they're his kids too.

You don't talk about that time, barely acknowledge the fact he's a father – he's just _Bro_ to them – and it's better that way. That whole situation was a mess, a mistake forced on you both and you've never hated the regime more than you did at that moment. Yes, you wanted to be a mother but Dirk didn't want to be a father and it's so far from the way you wanted it to go. Maybe that's why you drank so much. You realize now that it might have contributed to it at the very least.

But none of that matters now. What matters is getting your kids back and doing everything you should have done in the first place.

“Rough day?” Dirk asks, rubbing soothing circles down your back.

You sigh. “Yeah.” You pull away and manage a wobbly grin. “Just need some R&R and I'll be good as new!”

Dirk just frowns, a tiny, worried dint between his brows. It reminds you of little Davey and suddenly you want to cry. “I'm not sure R&R is something we can afford at the moment.” He scratches at his chin as he starts to think and you can practically _see_ the gears churning in his head. “Though maybe we can look into any spots they might have gone that have amusement parks or something. That's something they'd do, right? If they were able.” He hums and starts pacing, silently considering all the options. It's adorable.

“Whoever took them might have passed through a place like that,” you suggest, “or close to one.”

“That's right. There are quite a few of them to the southeast. Warmer climates so they can stay open longer.” Oh wow, you are totes impressed with how much random info he has stored in that big brain of his. So hot. Swoon. “Most of the populous down there is-”

“Roxy!” Jake bursts into your tent, panting and wide-eyed like he's seen a ghost. Dirk tenses, hand dropping to the hilt of his sword, and you grab Mutie on the way to your big ammo bag.

“What's up?” Dirk demands as you kneel and reload the rifle.

Jake blinks as he looks at you, eyes darting between you. “Are we expecting trouble, then?”

You pause in your packing of a more travel friendly ammo pack to stare at him. Dirk gives him a flat look. “Dude, you're the one who came in shouting.”

He smacks his forehead. “Oh! Right, sorry chap, that's not-” He hums and frowns, worry twisting his face. “I'm not entirely sure it _isn't_ trouble, exactly, and it's all just rumors and-”

“Jake,” you sigh, breathing deeply as you stand. It's probably nothing too bad but he's just making you tense and worried.

“Locas,” he answers and you look at him dumbly. “There's been a report, really rather more of a rumor, about a rather strange human in the area. No real details but it's a troll town.”

Your heart stops and you almost forget to breathe. Could this be-?

Dirk must be thinking the same thing since his shades light up as he scours the web for information. “No human settlements for several hundred miles. There have been scattered reports throughout the years of humans wandering through though most don't seem to have wandered back out.” He turns to you and you can see the sharp angles of his face harshly edged out by the light of his screen. “It's about a week and a half straight south from here. One if we can push Maplehoof enough without breaking it.”

You turn on your heel, immediately packing up everything in your tent. Dirk and Jake leave, presumably to do the same, but you pay them no mind. This is the first real lead you've had in _months_ and, okay, maybe it's not them, you have to be realistic, but if it _is_ and you miss them? You'd never forgive yourself.

So you'll go, you'll chase leads until you're old and grey if you have to but you won't stop until you find them. They deserve that much from you.


End file.
